


So the Rumors About You are True

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 10:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11598657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Summer seemed to drag on for soon-to-be high school senior James Buchanan Barnes, an eternity of heat and loneliness. It wasn’t like he had friends in school, not anymore, but at least there was a routine there, something other than the monotony of late breakfasts and skipped medications when he slept through his reminders to take them. At least at school there were the hot girls, hot boys too, who were quick to fall into the back seat of his car- quick to leave too, once the haze of sex cleared and they could clearly see the scars littered across his skin. At least at school there were people who would hit him just because he dared label himself with the slurs they threw with their punches. At least at school, he could feel something.





	So the Rumors About You are True

**Author's Note:**

> I got the prompt for a piece of dialogue ("so the rumors about you are true") from my girlfriend and this short, seemingly unfinished thing was created. But fear not, I loved this AU and I decided to write a much longer fic based on it, which is in the works right now. This is acting as a less edited and poorly written preview for the eventual fic.  
> I hope you enjoy!

Summer seemed to drag on for soon-to-be high school senior James Buchanan Barnes, an eternity of heat and loneliness. It wasn’t like he had friends in school, not anymore, but at least there was a routine there, something other than the monotony of late breakfasts and skipped medications when he slept through his reminders to take them. At least at school there were the hot girls, hot boys too, who were quick to fall into the back seat of his car- quick to leave too, once the haze of sex cleared and they could clearly see the scars littered across his skin. At least at school there were people who would hit him just because he dared label himself with the slurs they threw with their punches. At least at school, he could feel something.

But finally summer was drawing to a close, finally his mother and little sister were dragging him to target to buy new school supplies. Finally, he turned on his alarm loud enough to wake him.

The first day of school was just as hot as the rest of the summer had been, the hot New York City air filling Bucky’s lungs- Bucky, that’s what he used to be called, when he still had a friend to call his own. No one called him Bucky now, just Barnes, or worse,  _ James _ . He climbed the stairs out of the subway, coming face to face with the towering old brick building that housed what passed as a school. He grimaced, tugging on the sleeves of his too-heavy-for-this-weather flannel, a nervous tick he’d picked up after Becca started questioning the cuts on his arms.

As he walked through the doors to the school, he realized with a heavy heart that he’d forgotten his anti-anxiety medication this morning.

Bucky made his way to his first class- he’s received his schedule the week before classes began. When he walked into the already crowded classroom, he felt his heart skip a beat. It was loud, way too loud for him. He balled his hand into a fist and walked to the back of the room. He sat down and let his long brown hair fall into his face. He perfectly fit the role of brooding teen, a castaway from elementary school years when he seemed to get along with everyone. 

Through his jeans, he scratched at the fresh cuts on his thigh. 

The classroom door swung open again and in walked a tall blonde, at least six feet- that’s what Bucky noticed first. But then his eyes found his way to the unfamiliar student’s face, and he felt his heart stop. 

No.

_ No. _

This wasn’t happening, no, it couldn’t be happening.

Nononono stop stop s t op n o-

Bucky felt his throat tighten, his hands beginning to shake. He couldn’t look away from this boy’s face- a face he once knew so well. Bucky grabbed his bag and rushed out of the classroom.

\---

The bathroom stall with a broken door was not an unfamiliar place for Bucky- he’d been the one to break it. He shoved the stall open and bent over the toilet, emptying the contents of his stomach and still shaking. After a few moments he straightened up and wiped the sick off of his mouth with the back of his hand. He cursed himself for not remembering his medication; forgetting it always worsened the ever-present knot in his gut.

He couldn’t get the image of that boy out of his mind- it couldn’t have been who he thought it was. No, the boy that face belonged to was a scrawny kid from the heart of Brooklyn, one who Bucky could throw over his shoulder when he was younger. That face did not belong to a six foot, rather buff  _ man _ .

So why did it bother him so much?

\---

The school let him transfer to a different class section. He didn’t see the boy again that day.

\---

When Bucky returned home, he was alone. His mom was at work and Becca was at a friend’s house. He wished she were home.

He shoved through the cluttered apartment to his messy room and climbed onto his bed, lying on his back. On the ceiling were glow in the dark stars he’d put up years ago.

_ “One day, I’m gonna be an astronaut!” _

_ “Ha! You couldn’t pass the physical tests.” _

_ “I could try!” _

_ “Good luck with that. Don’t do anything stupid in space.” _

_ “How could I, all the stupid would be on earth with you.” _

_ “Shut up, Stevie.” _

Bucky looked down. Lines of blood had traced their way onto his arm, beads of red pooling at the shallow wounds.

It wasn’t enough. It didn’t manifest the hurt he was feeling, the shame, and the guilt. He wanted more, he  _ needed _ more-

“James, I’m home!” Becca called from the kitchen.

Bucky scrambled to wrap his arm in gauze.

\---

A week passed. Bucky was remembering to take his medications. It helped, the anti anxiety medication, the antidepressants, even the antipsychotic to ease his manic points helped. 

Friday came around. A girl- Stacy?- approached him while he was getting a drink from the water fountain.

“I hear you can score me some… studying aids,” she said with a sly grin.

“I’m not sure who told you that,” he replied. It was the first time he’d spoken in a day or so, his voice sounded strained.

“Oh come on,” she whined. “Will you at least give me a little cash if I… do something for you?”

Bucky sighed. “I don’t do that sort of thing.”

Stacy (or was it Sarah?) cocked her head. “But you’re into all kindsa stuff, aren’t you? Come on-” she tugged on his sleeve. “Let’s go somewhere private.”

Before Bucky could protest, the girl was dragging him towards the bathroom. The boy’s bathroom. God, Bucky loved a good blow job but not in the disgusting stalls of a school bathroom.

Then she was down on her knees, tugging at his belt-

Bucky opened his mouth to protest when the door to the bathroom swung open. He made eye contact with the intruder- those striking blue eyes seemed to bore a hole through him.

“Steve-” he choked out.

Stacy was off her knees in a moment, shoving past the tall pupil and hurried down the hallway.

“So the rumors about you are true,” Steve said, a blank look on his face. Bucky used to be able to read that face like a book, tell every thought that ran through the other’s head. Now, his face was as empty as Bucky felt.

“It’s not what it looks like-”

“Sure it isn’t.”

“Steve-”

The blonde turned around and exited the bathroom. Bucky sank to the floor, gasping for breath.

\---

It had been a hot day like this, when everything had gone wrong in Bucky’s life. It hadn’t been September, but rather August. Bucky and Steve were sitting on the roof of Steve’s apartment. Bucky was fresh out of the psych ward, a bandage was still wrapped around his left wrist. The doctors said he was lucky to still have feeling in his hand. Steve was always understanding, especially through late middle school when Bucky’s brain started to mess with him. It was one of the things Bucky had fallen for in the other boy. He was pure and kind, always ready to offer something up of his to aid someone who needed it. That and those pure blue eyes, the soft hands, his courage- he could go on.

“Stevie?” Bucky asked the other boy as the sun set over Manhattan. 

“What’s up, Buck?” Steve replied, their eyes meeting. Bucky could see the concern in the other’s face, and he tugged his long sleeved shirt down further over his bandages.

“Am I too screwed up for you?”

Steve’s eyes widened. “No! Bucky, you’re my best friend!”

Bucky gave a half hearted smile and pulled the smaller boy into a hug. 

“Thank you,” he murmured in the other’s ear, before pulling back, his hands on Steve’s slim shoulders. Bucky stared into the boy’s face, softly lit by the dying sunlight, perfect in every way.

Then he did something that he shouldn’t have.

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Steve’s lips, and he swore that for a moment, Steve kissed back.

But then he scooted away, stumbling to his feet.

“Get away from me-” he said, his voice wavering.

“Steve?” Bucky asked, alarmed. “Stevie, I’m sorry, let’s just forget-”

“Get away from me!” Steve repeated. “I don’t ever want to see you again!”

Bucky stood up, shock and surprise lingering on his face. He narrowed his eyes to keep tears from falling, and stormed down the stairs from the roof, out the front door of the apartment. When he was about a block away from Steve’s house, Bucky began to run, hiccuping through tears as he did so, until he got home.

Bucky stiffened at the memory as he walked home from school. He still had the scars from the aftermath of their fight, physical and mental ones. He had two more gashes on his arms from the middle of ninth grade, when he was utterly alone, an outcast, a stranger in his own body. He grimaced at the thought.

“Hey!” A harsh voice was calling from behind him as he was descending into the empty subway station. He spun around to see a burly boy he was classmates with. Bucky furrowed his brow, what did he do  _ now _ ? “I hear my girl Sarah gave you a blowjob and then you scared her off.”

Oh. So her name was Sarah.

“That’s not what happen-” he protested weakly.

“Aren’t dicks enough for you, you fucking fag!”

Bucky took a deep breath. No need to fight, not today. 

“Are you listening to me?” the boy asked, sneering. “Come on, faggot, what’s your issue?!”

Bucky balled his fists and swung at the kid, his hand connecting with the other’s jaw. He stumbled back before straightening up and lunging towards Bucky, grabbing him by his long hair and banging his head into the wall of the stairs. Bucky yelped, managing to get out of the other’s grip. But the bigger boy grabbed his arm, right on a set of fresh cuts, and twisted, eliciting another cry from Bucky. He pulled away, tearing off his flannel to do so, but the other boy kicked him in the stomach and Bucky felt himself falling, tumbling down the stairs before landing on his back, slamming his head into the dirty ground. He screwed up his eyes in pain, the tile floor of the station cold against his exposed skin.

“Hey!” 

The voice wasn’t that of Bucky’s attacker, it was stronger, more clear.

“Get out of here!” the voice boomed again.

Bucky opened his eyes, his vision blurred perhaps from tears and perhaps from a concussion. He didn’t care to think about it. Through wavering eyes, a face came into view.

“Are you okay, Buck?” the face asked- No not just any face,  _ Steve’s face _ .

Bucky gasped and sat up, immediately regretting the decision. His head pounded and he ached where he had been kicked.

“Bucky, can you hear me?” Steve asked again.

Bucky looked at him, eyes wide. His vision was clearer now, and he could see concern written plainly on the other’s face. He looked away, curling into himself, trying to conceal his arms at least. He didn’t need Steve to know how much worse he’d gotten in the past few years. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“What are you doing here?” he asked sharply.

“Can I touch you?” Steve merely replied.

After all these years, Steve still remembered to ask- but Bucky shook his head, he didn’t want Steve to comfort him. Not after everything he’d done. Not after the hurt he’d caused, no, Steve could not touch Bucky. 

Bucky looked over at Steve long enough to see the other teen nod.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” Steve said.

“Like you actually care,” Bucky spat. 

Steve ignored that comment, but Bucky could tell the words had hurt.  _ Well, too bad _ , he thought bitterly. A long silence stretched between the two, each moment growing more tense.

“Can I explain myself?” Steve asked.

Bucky pushed himself off the ground and stood up, grabbing his discarded and dirty flannel. He pulled it on, feeling infinitely more calm with his scars covered. He turned and stared down at Steve, who was still kneeling on the floor.

“What is there to explain? I kissed you and you flipped. You told me to get away from you, so I did. I did exactly what you wanted, Steve, and it  _ ruined _ me,” he said as calmly as he could. 

“It’s not like that, Buck-”

“It’s exactly like that! What more is there to it?!” Bucky was raising his voice now, but it quavered slightly as he continued. “I’m queer, and you aren’t, and you hate me because of it!”

“Bucky!” Steve interrupted. “I’m not- I didn’t know what to do!”

“Well, you didn’t have to tell your best friend to go away.”

Bucky turned away from Steve, taking a deep breath. 

“I’m going home,” he said, taking out his metrocard and walking towards the turnstiles. “You can’t come back into my life after you destroyed it.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder as he moved to swipe his metrocard. It wasn’t a hard grip, it didn’t pull him or stop him, it was merely there. Bucky turned to face Steve again, looking up at the now-taller boy. His face was so sad, like a puppy kicked to the curb.

“Let me take you home,” Steve said simply, and Bucky pushed through the turnstile.

He didn’t expect Steve to follow, but he did. They stood in silence until the train came, and they boarded a nearly empty car. Bucky sat down and tugged on his sleeves, not daring to look at Steve. 

“I saw your arms.”

Bucky sighed and buried his face in his hands.

“Is that because of me?”

“Some of it,” Bucky mumbled.

“Sorry.”

The noise of the train speeding through the tunnels drowned out Bucky’s thoughts, and he became blank. He didn’t even realize he was at his stop until Steve gently pulled him up.

“You still live in the same apartment, right?” Steve asked, and Bucky nodded.

They exited the train station and Steve gently led Bucky back home. He walked Bucky up the stairs and grabbed the key from above the doorway, unlocking the door as if it were his own. Bucky walked into his apartment, making his way to his room as Steve replaced the key. Bucky flopped onto his bed, laying face down in the unmade bedsheets. A few moments passed and he felt the mattress next to him sink.

“I was scared,” Steve said.

Bucky turned his head to look up at Steve, his head in his hands.

“Why?” Bucky mumbled.

“I’m bi.”

“Oh.”

The silence extended uncomfortably.

“I was already a scrawny little kid, I was in denial- if my dad ever found out-”

Bucky pushed himself up, cocking his head to look at Steve. “You should have told me.”

“I should have.”

Another pregnant silence passed.

“Can I touch you now?” Steve asked, and Bucky nodded silently.

Steve reached out and traced the curve of Bucky’s jaw with his hand. The hand lowered and tugged on the flannel, which Bucky begrudgingly shrugged off, exposing his arms again. Steve traced the scars delicately, before bringing Bucky’s left wrist to his lips. Bucky shivered at the gentle touch.

“I loved you,” Bucky whispered.

“I know.”

Bucky gulped. 

“What made you stop?” Steve asked.

Bucky paused. “I don’t think I ever did.”

Steve’s hand found it’s way back to Bucky’s face, cupping his cheek. His eyes were soft and warm, and Bucky melted into the touch. Steve leaned in, their lips centimeters apart, when the harsh ring of Bucky’s phone cut through the air. Steve pulled away and Bucky scrambled to pull the phone out of his pocket.

It was Becca, calling probably to ask what was for dinner. Bucky silenced the phone and reached to the side of his head to massage the knot that was quickly growing there.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, his clear voice cutting through Bucky’s thoughts. “Do you want me to hug you?”

Bucky nodded softly, surrendering to Steve’s strong arms. He pressed his face into the other teen’s chest, the feeling of warmth and protection calming him. He let out an airy laugh.

“We’ve switched places, I used to be the one who got you out of fights and comforted you after.”

“Times change, Buck. We changed.”

Bucky shook his head. “You’re still you. You’re still… perfect.”

“Far from it.”

Bucky hummed in disagreement, closing his eyes. His head still hurt, as did everything else. But he was happier than he’d been in a long time, here in Steve’s arms. It was a comfort to know that it hadn’t been entirely his fault, their falling out, that it had merely been a misunderstanding. One thing he did understand, was that Steve had every right to be scared to tell his father. Steve shifted so that the two teens were lying down, Bucky still wrapped by Steve’s protective warmth. He didn’t even notice himself dozing off.

\---

When he woke up, he was alone in bed. He sat bolt upright, looking around his room. Where’d Steve go? Had he hit his head hard enough to have hallucinated the whole experience?

Then he heard laughter coming from the kitchen, his mother’s laughter. He pushed himself up and walked out of his room, swaying slightly from drowsiness and pain. In the kitchen stood Steve and Bucky’s mom, talking- no,  _ laughing _ together. 

“Oh! James!” Winifred said as she caught sight of him. “You didn’t tell me Steve transferred to your school!”

Bucky made eye contact with Steve- how much had he told her?

“Yeah, I didn’t know until today,” Bucky lied.

Steve smiled and turned back to Winifred. “Yeah, I ran into him on the way home.”

Bucky silently thanked Steve for omitting the fact that he had been in a fight. He didn’t need his mother worrying more than she already did. 

Steve’s phone rang and he quickly picked up.

“Hi mom,” he said, holding up a finger to signal he’d just be a moment as he walked out of the kitchen.

Bucky watched him go before Winifred tapped his shoulder. “So… how’s he doing? You two haven’t talked in like three years!”

“Yeah. He’s good, I think. We’re good.”

“I missed him,” Winifred said. “He’s grown up so much!”

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, he’s taller than me now.”

Steve walked back into the kitchen, shrugging at the two of them.

“I have to head home,” Steve said, cracking a smile. “Mom wants me home for dinner.”

“Alright, hun,” Winifred said, pulling Steve into a hug. “Get home safe!”

Steve said he would, and looked at Bucky, cocking his head slightly in a signal that he should follow. Bucky did, walking Steve out the door and down the stairs to the first floor.

“I want to see you again,” Bucky said.

“Me too.” Steve raised his hand to Bucky’s face, waiting for Bucky to nod before pushing the hair out of his eyes. “I’ll pick you up here, at ten. We’ll figure out where to go then.”

Bucky nodded, feeling his face flush. “Ten. I’ll be ready.”

Steve smiled and pulled Bucky into a tight hug. “It’s good to have you back,” he mumbled. 

“You too.”

Bucky could safely say he was the happiest he’d been in years.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please stay tuned in for the more well rounded, longer, fic!


End file.
